What Should Not Have Been
by Lady Naerdiel
Summary: A young girl is brought to Middle earth during the War of the Ring. Now she must figure out how this world works and her own importance—or perish.
1. Visions from Lorien

Title: What Should Not Have Been

Summary: A young girl is brought to Middle-earth during the War of the Ring. Now she must figure out how this world works and her own importance—or perish.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Arda or Eä, including but not limited to recognizable characters, places, languages, and events.

Chapter One: Visions from Lórien

Moonlight shone between the leaves, illuminating the fountain. Though it did not truly need it; it was a fountain of clear, almost silvery water that seemed to sparkle with the light of the stars.

Beside the fountain, a figure sat on a chair formed from stone and leaves. His body took a masculine form, yet it did not seem to fit him. He was a spirit, intangible in body and ethereal in speech and movement; one of the Valar, the Powers of Arda.

A woman approached him. She too appeared unsuited for her worldly form, though at the moment she was more spirit than corporeal. She too was of the Valar.

"You are watching the fountain again," she said, in a way that was neither speech nor telepathy. "It is the mortal again, is it not?"

"It is, Estë. Her time is nearly upon us."

"Her time?" Estë's eyes widened. "Irmo, you mean to bring her here?"

"Not of my own will. She will come when it is her time, and I will see to it that she does."

Irmo, lord of visions and dreams, turned to face his wife.

"She is not of our world," Estë argued.

"It is not my choice." Irmo watched Estë the Gentle as she shook her head.

"She will come to Lórien, then?"

"No. She is to appear in Middle-earth."

"Why her?" Irmo raised a misty eyebrow at Estë's inquiry. "I mean, why is it she? Why has she been chosen for this Journey?"

Irmo shook his head. "I know not. I only trust the judgment of Eru Ilúvatar and the Aratar, for it is They who decreed this. But I know not of their intentions, only of their will."

"These are dangerous times in Middle-earth, Irmo. Do you truly think it wise to send a mortal from another world into the midst of the impending War?"

Irmo gave her a smile, though it was fleeting. "She has… a power. Not a strong power, but a power nonetheless. This is her path."

And with that, Irmo of Lórien returned his attention to the rippling waves of the fountain, and Estë his wife faded into the forest.

He knew not why he had been asked to see the mortal safely to Middle-earth; he had no great power, save for his mastery of dreams. A mastery he hoped would bring her across worlds.

With his mind intertwined with the meditative image of flowing water and the gentle sound of the night, Irmo called upon his power to see the sleeping mortal. She was young, far too young, for this task. And yet, he knew she was not innocent. The horrors of her world were neither greater nor smaller than the terrors awaiting her in Middle-earth. She had become numb.

A sadness hung about her, though she mourned not. It was constant, never wavering, not even when she smiled.

_May the Grace of the Valar protect her in what is to come._


	2. The Golden Wood

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters/places/events/etc. of Arda belong to me. They're all Tolkien's.

Chapter Two: The Golden Wood

The days were growing darker, the threat of Mordor becoming ever more powerful. This was especially true for the border guards, who had been instructed to shoot to wound first and ask questions later. Several guards felt a bit apprehensive at this; they usually preferred to take captives or at least wait to see who approached.

One Elf saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. He drew an arrow from his quiver, and within a split second was pointing it at the figure. He prepared to fire…

But he couldn't do it. He knew he had to, but he just couldn't. Some mysterious force kept him from releasing the arrow despite his struggles. Finally, he just gave up and approached the figure.

He had seen many strange things in his long life, but never anything like this.

A young girl—a mortal, no less—was lying just inside the Wood's border. She wore a short white dress which seemed more undergarment than actual clothing. Her dark hair, splayed out on the grass, seemed to be tinted purple—or perhaps it was a trick of the sun. She appeared to be asleep.

But what was most shocking was the necklace she wore. A small silver coin hung from a chain around her neck. On one side was a symbol that he recognized as Sarati, though he could not read it. On the other was a symbol in Tengwar.

So this was why he couldn't shoot her.

He gave the girl a hard jab in the side with the end of his bow. She opened her eyes slowly, her mind disoriented and not entirely certain what was going on. He watched as dawning realization crept across her face.

"What's going on?" she asked, both confused and alarmed. "Who are you, and what is this place?"

Mortals rarely came to Lothlórien. He and his people did not much like to deal with them. So, most of the Elves, including himself, had never bothered to learn their tongue.

The Elf turned his head and peered up into one of the many trees.

"_Tolo dad_," he called into the leaves. Another Elf dropped down from the tree. He had his bow strung and an arrow notched, and pointed it at her the moment he touched the ground.

"_What is it, Eryndur?_" he asked in Sindarin.

"_I cannot harm the mortal girl,_" said the first Elf. "_She appears to wear the necklace of Lórien._"The girl just stared at them.

"_She is in the Valar's favor,_" said the second. "_Send a messenger to the Lady._" The first Elf raised an eyebrow.

"_Speak to her in the common tongue._"

"What is your name?" the second Elf asked her, this time in words she could understand.

"Kaitlyn," she responded. "Uh… where am I, and who are you?"

"I am Haldir of the Border Guard, and you are trespassing in Lothlórien."

* * *

Irmo was once again sitting beside the fountain of Lórien in Valinor. A peaceful, faraway look veiled his face.

Estë watched nervously as her husband's eyes widened with worry.

"What is it?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Is it the girl?" Irmo nodded.

Estë raised an eyebrow. "Something went wrong?" she hazarded.

"No. The journey to this world was flawless, and she now lies in Middle-earth. But I fear paranoia will place her under suspicion." He held a hand to his forehead, as if all this was giving him a headache. "I have given her a small token that should keep her safe for the time being, but its power will not last. Once it does, the token will identify her, but will not keep others from attacking her impulsively."

"Is there any way you can prolong its power?"

"No, there is not. We can only wait, and watch, and hope for the best." He rose from his seat. "I go now to see my brother." Irmo sighed. "Then he will call the others together, and they will wish to hold a Council. It seems a popular pastime."

"I will remain," Estë said with a small smile. "I will remain, and watch over the girl."

"And I shall send for you when the time comes. Until then, I wish you luck."

"And you," Estë said softly, taking her husband's hand for a moment before his misty figure disappeared. Then, as the sun began to rise, she returned to her island in the Lake Lorellin to sleep until night fell once more.


	3. Revelations

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters/places/events/etc. of Arda belong to me. They're all Tolkien's.

Chapter Three: Revelations

"I'm _where_?" Kaitlyn asked. She stared at the person in front of her.

"Lothlórien." Haldir raised an eyebrow at the mortal girl. "Tell me, what are you doing here?"

Kaitlyn blinked. "Er…I don't know," she said. "You said I'm in _Lothlórien? _As in, _Middle-earth?_" She was having a bit of trouble wrapping her mind around the concept.

"Yes," he said suspiciously. "Middle-earth." He paused for a moment. "You are not from around here, are you?"

She shook her head. "No…" How could she be here? Here in… _Middle-earth, _was it? Was it even possible?

Why was she here? She was no great fan of the series; she'd seen the movies, yes, but never read the books. In fact, she hadn't even _known _there were books until the girl who sat behind her in pre-calc brought _The Fellowship of the Ring _to class.

Luckily, Haldir did not question her further. She could tell he probably would have liked to, but at that moment his companion returned.

"_The Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn will receive the strange mortal," _he said in Sindarin. Haldir nodded.

"_I will take her, then," _Haldir said. The other opened his mouth to argue, but Haldir put up a hand. _"No, Eryndur," _he said. _"I speak the common tongue. It must be me."_

He looked from Haldir to the mortal girl. _"Very well. I leave you, then."_ With that, he leapt back into the trees. Kaitlyn blinked, confused.

"I take you to Caras Galadhon," Haldir said. The girl stared at him, and Haldir sighed. "I shall explain as we walk," he said, and offered his hand. He helped her up, and bowed his head. "Follow me, _Firieth_."

* * *

_Author's notes: Apologies for the short chapter; it was originally supposed to be the first part of one chapter, but research for part two was taking a bit too long, so I decided just to stick this up._


	4. Mahanaxar

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters/places/events/etc. of Arda belong to me. They're all Tolkien's.

_Author's notes: I am currently looking for a beta. If anyone's interested, my e-mail is in my profile._

Chapter Four: Máhanaxar

* * *

Námo glared at Vairë, for lack of anything else to glare at. She sat at her loom, weaving the history of Arda. Her eyes were not really focused on her work, as her fingers moved instinctively across the board.

She felt her husband watching her, and turned around.

"What troubles you?" she asked. He sighed.

"It is my brother, once again. I feel something in his plans has gone horribly wrong."

"His plans?" A confused look flitted across her face. "Ah, you speak of the mortal girl."

"Yes. It is the mortal girl from another world. I am sorry, Vairë…I cannot describe it any clearer."

Vairë stood and placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Do not worry, Námo," she said softly. "All will be well."

Námo held up a hand and furrowed his brow, staring at the pure white walls of the room. "My brother comes," he said, just as Irmo appeared in his halls.

"My brother, I must speak to you," the younger of the _Fëanturi_ said. Námo raised an eyebrow.

"How is that for a greeting?" he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Irmo grinned.

"Greetings then, brother," he said. "But I must speak with you. It is a matter of great importance."

"The girl," Námo said. It wasn't a question. Irmo nodded. "Well then, come, and we will talk." He nodded to Vairë, who had returned to her place at the loom, and led his brother into a smaller room.

This room had a deep blue and gold theme, unlike the white marble of the previous. Námo seated himself at a gold-trimmed desk covered in papers and motioned for his brother to take a seat. Irmo did, draping himself over a soft navy chair.

"Now, what has happened?" Námo asked, fearing the worst. His brother shifted uncomfortably, adding to Námo's worry.

"I have brought the girl to Arda," he said slowly. "She is, at the moment, within the borders of Lothlórien." At Námo's stare, he paused.

"I sense you are not telling me the entire story, Irmo," the elder said. Irmo shook his head.

"A border guard has already attempted to take her life," he said. "Aulë provided for me a necklace, which she wears, but its power will soon cease. I fear paranoia resulting from the War will lead to her death."

"You fear when its protective power fails, she may be mistaken for an enemy and killed?" Námo said. "This is a grievous matter." He stood and walked around his desk. "I shall summon a Council of the Valar, where we may discuss this unforeseen complication."

"As I thought you would, my brother," Irmo said. "I thank you."

"Return to your wife, brother; you shall receive the summons to Máhanaxar in due time. Until then, farewell."

"Farewell."

* * *

Manwë Súlimo scanned the Ring of Doom, where his kindred spirits sat enthroned in the Council circle. Most

appeared calm and tranquil, though Irmo kept playing with his hands and Námo shot his brother irritated looks every few moments.

_It is up to me, then, as neither of the _Fëanturi_ seems willing to begin this Council._

"You have been summoned here at the requests of brothers Námo and Irmo," he began. "Its purpose is to discuss a mortal maiden brought to Middle-earth at the bidding of our Father, Eru Ilúvatar." A slight pause. "Irmo, will you begin?"

Irmo raised his head at the sound of his name. "Ah… Of course," he said.

"I am not sure what knowledge of this you each possess, and what I know has few holes in it. Manwë, then, I ask to speak of this plot so that I may speak freely and clearly."

The Lord of the Air and Windnodded, and proceeded to explain all he knew. Irmo discovered that Manwë knew no more or less than he did

* * *

"Yet I do not know our Father's purpose in this plot," he finished. "It is simply that she has a power. I know not what her power is, or the strength, or why it is that this power is needed, but I do know that our Father has decreed this.

"Now, Irmo, will you tell the Council of your experiences bringing the girl into this world?" Irmo nodded and stood, facing Manwë and Varda.

"I received instruction from our Father Eru Ilúvatar as well as the Eight Aratar to send a vision to a mortal girl from another world. This vision, which would come to her in her sleep, was to bring her to Arda, or more specifically, to Middle-earth. I was given no more knowledge than Manwë, in that the girl was to come to Middle-earth and she would have some sort of power. I know no more than that." Irmo paused for a moment, during which he retook his seat.

Another one of the assembled Valar spoke up.

"There is danger, though, I fear. For why would a Council be summoned in such a way if not to discuss hazardous conditions?" Irmo turned to face Oromë.

"Yes, Oromë, I am afraid there is. Her transfer was flawless, and she is now within the borders of Lothlórien. Yet there is danger, for these are dark times in Middle-earth, a new darkness growing. Its inhabitants have become nervous, even paranoid, so that they shoot first and interrogate later."

The assembled Valar murmured nervously.

"Is there a possibility of accidental death by allies?" Nessa asked.

"Yes. She does have a necklace, forged by Aulë, that will identify her as in our favor, but from a distance it is difficult to recognize, especially for mortals. There is an enchantment on it that will prevent her from attack by allies, but that power will soon fail."

Solemn nods around the circle met Irmo's words.

"Does she speak the common language of Middle-earth?" Nienna posed the question that each was wondering.

"Not exactly," Irmo responded. "The necklace allows her to speak Westron, the common tongue, for now. However, that will fail when the protective power of the necklace dies. Then, she must learn the language for herself. That will be up to her."

"For now, then, we must watch over her," Manwë said. "Irmo, I know you have been keeping an eye on her. Continue to do so, and alert any one of the Aratar if you notice anything out of the ordinary." Irmo nodded.

"Are there any other questions from the assembled?" asked Manwë. Each of the Valar shook their heads. "Then the Council is adjourned."

The Sun began to rise over the Pelóri, bathing the Máhanaxar in the golden light of dawn.

Irmo stood, relieved, and took Estë's hand.

"To Lórien, then," he said, smiling at her. She returned his smile, and Irmo turned to his brother.

"Farewell, then, little brother," Námo said, "For now, at least."

"Farewell. I shall see you soon, I feel." Námo rested his hand on his younger brother's shoulder for a moment, then clasped hands with Vairë and departed with the rest of the Valar.

And Irmo left with Estë, he to Lórien and she to Lorellin, to sleep until night fell once more.


End file.
